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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29127501">a study in the art of lines</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamgerime/pseuds/tamgerime'>tamgerime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dance, Anxiety, Ballet, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:08:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29127501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamgerime/pseuds/tamgerime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>tsukiyama dance au!! see also: tadashi has a major crush on kei but still can't see it (it's right in front of you babe please). plenty of pining after your best friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a study in the art of lines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi guys!! the beginning of this chapter is a little dance vocabulary heavy so i included a glossary here :) if my explanations don't make sense it might be easier to just look up a picture/video of the terms because it is so hard to explain them with no visuals. happy reading! :)</p><p>adagio- an exercise with slow, fluid movements, and an emphasis on grace and balance.<br/>developpe- a movement where the leg is drawn up the leg to the knee and then extended and held in the air, either forward, to the side, or to the back.<br/>arabesque- a body position in which one leg is held straight behind you while you stand on the other leg.<br/>petite allegro- an exercise with fast, small, ballet jumps.<br/>fifth position- a position in which the feet are turned out and pressed closely together, with one foot’s ankle pressed to the other foot’s toe and vice versa.<br/>passé- a position in which you are standing on one leg and the other is turned out with the toe held on the knee.<br/>pirouette- a turn in passé position.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sunlight streamed in through the large studio’s lofty windows, painting Tadashi’s face in gold as he straightened himself up. His teacher’s sharp eyes pierced his face as he set his brow, letting his arms breathe in the preparation for adagio.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>7, 8…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The legion of students began their developpes in tandem, legs blooming like flowers under the sun. In the mirror, he saw Oikawa’s foot nearing his ear in his ridiculous signature flexibility. Adagio was Tadashi’s favorite part of class. He loved being able to breathe with the counts; the feeling of a stable balance was safe and gratifying. He chased it now, leg behind him in arabesque, fingers stretched toward the wall. The piano took root in his core, filling his limbs with its rhythm. His muscles burned as the combination drew to a close, letting his arms breathe as he slid his feet into fifth position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the piano stopped, the students relaxed, chests heaving. They were halfway through a two-hour class, and exhaustion was already beginning to sit into Tadashi’s limbs. Mentally, he cursed himself for turning down the banana Oikawa had offered him before class. Alas. He would have to make do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice arabesque balance, Yama-chan.” Oikawa chirped from next to him. “You’re improving. I can see it. Maybe it’s because of the guidance of your gracious senpais. Right, Sakkun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sakusa frowned at Oikawa before giving a stiff nod. “It’s paying off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi blushed from the attention. “Not as good as yours or Sakusa-san’s. But thanks. I’m working on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa jostled his shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short! It was good.” He looked like he would keep talking about how much he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tadashi’s arabesque, but a sharp look from their teacher silenced him. She gave him another warning glance before setting herself up to go over the next combination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hour passed, and Nakamura-sensei finally released them, but not before a grueling petite allegro. “We must build your stamina!” She had reminded them crisply. Everything about her was clean-cut and dry, her combinations straightforward and academic. Tadashi could appreciate the way she watched them, eyes seeking out deviations and correcting them. He found it comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they walked out of the studio, Tadashi sought Tsukki out. He spotted him in what looked like a stiff– well, stiff for him– conversation with Kuroo and Bokuto, the latter of whom was gesticulating wildly. Although his back was to him, Tadashi could imagine Tsukki wearing a characteristically bored expression as Bokuto explained why he preferred Ukai-sensei’s grande allegros.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi got closer and closer, hearing Bokuto’s enthusiastic timbre over the bustle of students streaming to the cafeteria, eager for their meals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and you see– look, look, Tsukki-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsukishima.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tsukishima, yeah– he always has more, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>passion</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Like, boom- saut de chat, boom- tour jeté. And, y’know, nothing against Nakamura-sensei, but sometimes I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep in the middle of her demonstrations for grande allegro. But with Ukai-sensei I could never! Hi Yamaguchi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Yamaguchi.” Kuroo echoed, grinning toothily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukki turned, wearing the same dry expression Tadashi had predicted. “Yamaguchi. Save yourself, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi laughed, bright and bubbly, like he had been housing it in his chest all class. Maybe he had, waiting for one of Tsukki’s sardonic comments to release it like doves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto scoffed, hand to his chest. “I’m right! What do you think, Yamaguchi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukki gripped his shoulder, looking into his eyes in mock solemnity. “Tadashi. Don’t. It’s a trap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi flushed at the hand on his shoulder. It wasn’t like he and Tsukki never touched, or like he never used his given name. No, not at all, yet why did his face feel so hot? Why was his heart racing? He hoped he could use class as an excuse, but he doubted anyone there would call him for it. Bokuto, maybe, but not out of malice-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yamaguchi?” Bokuto called, waving his hand in front of his face. “Hellooo? What do you think of the grande allegros?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi shook his head, scattering his thoughts like dust in the wind. “Oh, um,” he cleared his throat, “I like Nakamura-sensei’s grande allegros. They’re good for technique. But, I agree with you, Bokuto-san, I think Ukai-sensei’s are more fun. Like, artistic? I dunno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bokuto nodded soberly. “See? Yamaguchi agrees!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because he didn’t have to stand here while you explained Friday’s grande allegro with cartoon sound effects.” Tsukki rolled his eyes. Kuroo snickered, covering his mouth with his hand. Bokuto turned to him, indignant, but before he could say anything, Tsukki grabbed Tadashi by the arm and walked toward the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, I don’t want them to trap me again. Let’s go eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi giggled. “Okay, Tsukki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo called after them. “Oi! Tsukki! We’re going to be in studio 3 tonight during free hour if you wanna come! Akaashi said he’d play piano for us!” He turned back to talk to Bokuto, who was still grumbling about Tsukki.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Tsukki replied, in a gray tone that suggested that he would spend his free hour taking a nap in their dorm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi frowned at his lack of enthusiasm. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> to have a pianist play for him to practice. Not that he wasn’t sure Kuroo and Bokuto wouldn’t let him join them if he asked, but the idea of asking them made him so anxious that it was out of the question. He shook the displeasure from his head and let himself be dragged to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made their way from the long hallway which housed the dance studios to the stairwell which was now packed with dancers, musicians, and artists. Their dining hall was enormous, so they all had meals together. He could hear Tsukki muttering under his breath about sweaty students as they moved with the tide toward lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining hall was modern, with lofty ceilings and wood panels lining the walls. Students shared trays of food from the front of the large room with the others at their tables. Tadashi and Tsukishima found their seats with some of their other floormates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hinata and Kageyama were bickering, unsurprisingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama tapped the table impatiently. “-and just because you have no patience for music theory-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> theory! How do you think I passed the entrance exam?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-doesn’t mean I should have to carry the duet for Takeda-sensei’s class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carry? Since when does a bassist carry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukki glanced at Tadashi and pulled a sour face. Tadashi snorted and covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head back at Tsukki but still fighting a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since the sax player doesn’t know theory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many times do I have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sugawara, their prefect, waltzed up behind them and clapped his hands on their shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata-kun! Kageyama-kun! What’s this about theory?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them froze as their senpai leaned over them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um- ah- Sugawara-san!” Hinata coughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama cleared his throat. “Just a little disagreement. Right, Hinata?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah- yeah. Right! Just about Takeda-sensei’s duet project.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suga smiled pleasantly, but his eyes looked lethal. “Just keep it down, okay?” Tadashi shook a little from that piercing gaze, and he wasn’t even its target. Hinata and Kageyama nodded nervously, and Sugawara’s eyes thawed back to their usual cheeriness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you guys need help with that, you can totally ask me! I remember doing that project with Daichi. I almost chewed his head off, but we got an A! And Hinata, I can lend you my theory books.” He winked and straightened back up. “Yamaguchi-kun, Tsukishima-kun. Keep these two in line.” He grinned earnestly before waltzing back off to join the other prefects.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi liked Sugawara. They weren’t particularly close, but he’d let him have an extra half hour before lights out on more than one occasion. Not to mention, he had the unnerving ability to shut Hinata and Kageyama up with just a glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hinata shivered. “Sugawara-san is scary! I mean, I’m gonna ask for his theory books, but man! Must be a lower strings thing.” He narrowed his eyes at Kageyama, who chose to ignore him in favor of stabbing at his vegetables. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All that space in your head for music theory, but you still can’t pass Modern Japanese.” Tsukki droned, shaking a chopstick at Kageyama.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi laughed brightly. “Cut him some slack, Tsukki. You can barely pass dance history.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsukki rolled his eyes but gave a small smile. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi grinned, turning to his plate. “Hey, pass the rice, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hinata handed him the bowl. “So, Yamaguchi, how far are you in that math worksheet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the meal lapsed in laughter and conversation, small glances exchanged with Tsukki when their floormates said something idiotic. As their allotted hour drew to a close, they pushed their chairs in and piled their empty dishes on the tray in the middle of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinata, it’s your turn to take the tray up.” Tsukishima droned, as the orange-haired boy got ready to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it, Stingyshima. Just give me like, four seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One, two, three-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay! I’m going.” Hinata picked the tray up and wove through the students who were now milling around the dining hall, going as fast as his full hands and short legs would allow. He almost crashed into about three different people, but managed to avoid them and come back in one piece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? I got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kageyama snorted. “Barely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hinata flicked him in the arm. “Let’s go, maybe we can get an empty practice room for free hour.” He grabbed the taller boy by the arm, who shook him off and grunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Yamaguchi! Tsukishima!” Hinata grinned and waved at them as they rushed to the door, somehow managing to make the walk to the practice rooms a race. Tadashi waved back before turning to Tsukki.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, we have to change before class. Walk with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I don’t really see any other roommates to walk with.” Tsukki pushed his glasses further up his nose, face straight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi smacked him in the arm. “Ha ha, Tsukki. Let’s go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them walked out of the building which housed their specialized classes and dining hall, making their way across the campus to the dorms. The trees that lined the walkways were beginning to turn hues of orange and red, carpeting the cement with warm-colored leaves. Tadashi went out of his way to step on the ones that looked crunchy, each satisfying step rewarded by a warm remark from Tsukki.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was a good one.” He commented, voice flat to anybody but Tadashi, who had spent most of his 16 years studying the dips and rises in his voice, letting its cadence fill him with warmth when no one else would look at him. He turned to grin brightly, catching a rare, soft expression on his best friend’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Tsukki.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They swiped their ID cards at the entrance to their dorm, taking the stairs up to their room. Tsukki placed the key he had already fished out of his pocket into Tadashi’s waiting hand, who let them into the shared room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their dorm wasn’t very big, with a bunk bed, two desks, and a small closet. Pictures and posters lined the space above the top bunk, where Tadashi had splattered his personality all over the walls. Tsukki only had two posters and a picture, all of which Tadashi had gifted him when they moved in. Tadashi remembered what he’d said when he handed them to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would I want these?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because, Tsukki! How will you remember what your friends look like?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had blinked at him, confused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re right here. We live together.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi had blushed profusely before helping him tack them up above his bed. He flushed now with the memory, standing on the ladder to his bed and sorting through the habitual nest of clothing in search of clean slacks and a button up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is why I always tell you to hang them up.” Tsukki’s voice from behind him made Tadashi jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled a button up from the bottom of the pile. “Ha! Who needs hangers when I have perfect intuition for my mess?” He turned, smiling triumphantly, to find Tsukki with his shirt off, shaking his head. Quickly, Tadashi coughed and turned back to continue digging for a pair of pants, blush racing up his neck. Seeing Tsukki with his shirt off never failed to make him flustered, despite countless sleepovers and several months as roommates. He could hear the shuffle of fabric as the tall boy got his navy slacks on, the garment sliding over long, lithe legs that could make the most gorgeous lines when they danced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally found what he was looking for and shimmied back down the ladder to change. Tadashi thought he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tsukki’s eyes on his back as he peeled his white leotard off after the school sweatshirt he’d thrown over it. He got dressed as quickly as he could, fumbling with the buttons as he straightened up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit,” he hissed, fingers slipping over the shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, let me.” Tadashi felt a hand on his shoulder, gently tugging him to turn around. Tsukki bent down to reach the bottom buttons, breath puffing on Tadashi’s chest. His brown eyes were focused beneath his glasses, brows drawn down in concentration. His long fingers worked quickly, and he straightened as he made his way up the shirt, until they were eye-to-eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fastened the final button, pale hands touching Tadashi’s sternum through his shirt. He looked up, brushing down the front of the white uniform. Their eyes met for a loaded second, and Tadashi sincerely hoped he couldn’t feel the pounding of his heart from where his hands tugged on his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” he straightened up until he was the full ten and a half centimeters taller than Tadashi. “Now we won’t be late while you spend half an hour trying to button your shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The joke and ensuing laugh broke the tension like a clumsy person walking through cobwebs. “Thanks, Tsukki. Remember when you had to do that for me on the first day of middle school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were almost late and we had to run to our classroom. That teacher hated us for the rest of the year. I think she made you cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi giggled. “Yeah, I remember my mom forcing you to drag me to school every day.” He sighed in the glow of memory, old days filling the room with warmth. They stood pensively, privately contemplating middle school bullies and old school uniforms, until Tadashi broke the moment to grab his bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I don’t want Sato-sensei to yell at us. Maybe then you’ll have to drag me to class every day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi braced his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, sweat dripping from his forehead to the floor. He pushed the top of his foot against the floor, stretching it as his chest heaved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straightened back up, pushing loose hair off of his face. It was long enough to tie back into a little tuft, but he’d forgotten a hair tie tonight. Taking a deep breath, Tadashi reviewed his list of mental notes that he kept running during class.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ribs pulled in.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t throw your shoulders back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Quick feet into passé.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Toe to the knee.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Turn out to float at the end.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight is Turn Night. This was his least favorite part of class. He had never had the knack some other dancers did to be able to stay suspended, spinning on a careful axis until they floated down, controlled and unharried. Mentally, Tadashi knew that being decent at balance should translate to clean, precise turns. But as soon as he pushed himself into whatever it was that had been demanded of him, he choked. He just couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thus, tonight is Turn Night and so help him god Tadashi would turn and spot and push his feet into positions until he threw up or got it right, whichever came first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it felt like the more he focused on something, the worse it got. This was the case tonight, when he decided to start off simple with pirouettes until he couldn’t even land a single cleanly. Frustration with himself was welling in his body, threatening to overflow and drip onto the floor until the studio was flooded and the weight of it crushed the well-lit room into the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered what Shimada-san had taught him back home.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Find a spot.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ground yourself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good turns don’t happen overnight, and your expectations for yourself are only going to drive you to failure.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi walked to the side of the room to down water. He had a tendency to let his fear of inadequacy melt him down until he couldn’t even move. Being alone amplified it, his thoughts bouncing around the empty room like an echo chamber. Usually, Sakusa and Oikawa shared the studio with him, but they had yet to show tonight, and they had less than an hour left until teachers locked the studios.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the door flew open. Tadashi jumped about a kilometer, narrowly avoiding spilling his water bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa waltzed in, carrying his canvas ballet shoes and a blue water bottle. Behind him, Sakusa narrowly avoided the shutting door, and shot a dirty look at Oikawa’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss us, Yama-chan?” Oikawa smiled smoothly and set himself down next to where Tadashi stood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They answered at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Third years’ assembly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Art studios.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Sakkun, why were you in an art studio?” Oikawa reached out to jostle his shoulder. “Were you, perhaps, with Atsumu-kun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sakusa smacked his hand away.“No. Maybe. Shut up. I told him I’d help him with his figures project.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So generous, Sakkun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oikawa shrugged at Tadashi as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this guy, huh?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sakusa just rolled his eyes and went to the barre to begin his warmups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Yama-chan. By the looks of it, tonight is Turn Night. I’ve had many a late Turn Nights that have ended in tears, laughs, and first kisses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that last one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My point is, tonight I was planning on working on turns too. If you wanted to join me, I wouldn’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tadashi grinned. As much as Oikawa acted like what Hinata liked to call a ‘great king (derogatory)’, he was always willing to help him. He never offered fake words of encouragement, only constructive criticism and genuine pride. He had always said he knew what it felt like to know someone else was lying to you, so he never did it. Tadashi loved him for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, Turn Night became just a little bit more bearable with Oikawa’s witty remarks and Sakusa’s occasional input. They filled the echo chamber that the empty studio became for Tadashi, and instead helped him grow and grow and grow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went back to his dorm that night happy, and tired.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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